


Negotiating Table

by Marie_L



Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_L/pseuds/Marie_L
Summary: When Jericho needs to deal with the disreputable Jonah Prowse, Jake is the first one sent to the negotiating table.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



Given their history, Jake found it ironic that it wasn’t guns or ammo or gasoline that drove Jericho’s town council to hit up Jonah Prowse’s gang all over again. It was farm equipment that drove them to that reckless edge. Naturally, like every other respectable farm town, Jericho had its little John Deere and AGCO service outposts to scavenge parts from, but that wasn’t as helpful as it might look. Point one, most of the electronics in the fancy newer machines had been shot in the electromagnetic pulse after the bombs went off. Point two, they were running out of fuel anyway, and it turned out that lumbering half-a-million-dollar combines get crappy gas mileage. And even in the post-nuclear wasteland can-do economy, threshing wheat and soybeans by hand like medieval peasants wasn’t going to cut it, not over thousands of acres. No combines, no harvest; no harvest, no calories to survive on for the following year. Jericho had to have that food.

They’d heard through the bicycle grapevine that Jonah had several potential solutions to the problem. Since the conflict with New Bern the local situation had settled into a fragile status quo. One thing everyone tacitly agreed on was that minors under the age of fourteen were neutral non-combatants, and indeed it turned out that many of the men at the various encampments outside of town had kids and other relatives in town anyway. So the older kids acted as couriers, minor entrepreneurs and occasional spies for all sides, riding their bikes between encampments in small packs. It suited all parties to have some communication between groups, and served to grease the wheels of barter commerce as well.

Now, though, Jericho needed to negotiate with a bit more sophistication than the level of a twelve-year-old. Naturally their first impulse was to send Jake, as someone both competent and — by the standards of other members of Clan Jericho, if not the mayor — expendable.

“You and Prowse have a history,” Jake’s dad had explained in that maddeningly reasonable paternal way, as if no intelligent person could possibly have a contrary opinion. “His men won’t shoot you on sight, unlike most other people we could send.”

 _There_ _’s Emily,_ thought Jake, but even he dismissed the idea. Emily would never agree to see her father; if she lived to be a hundred, she would never let go of her burning hate for the reckless death of her brother. And even though Chris had been best friends with Jake, he himself could forgive, he realized. Jake’s own guilt absolved Jonah.

“I don’t know anything about harvesters or combines, Dad,” Jake said. “Wouldn’t it be better for someone like Stanley to tag along for tech support?”

“There’s not much to know at this stage, son,” Johnston replied. “Machine moves in a field, whole plant goes in, grain comes out. All you have to do is see that the thing they have works, and establish some level of trust. We’ll get the farmers and mechanics out for the details once a deal has been made, and safe passage guaranteed.”

His father was so measured, so reasonable. It made Jake want to scream, that the supposed wise mayor didn’t get what the trip was really about. Jonah didn’t ask for Jake because of his _negotiating_ skills. He asked — no, demanded — that he be the one to come so Jake would be back in his web of influence. Over the past year Jake had tried so hard to let Johnston be the father figure he always wanted, but in the end, it was always Jonah who understood Jake’s heart and mind. Love and genetics and an expectation to be respectable wasn’t enough. Jonah — thieving, head-bashing Jonah — understood that Jake needed more than calm reassurance out of life. And Jonah always knew exactly what Jake needed.

Now he was about to find out if Jonah still felt the same.

* * * *

He rode out to Prowse’s compound on his old high school dirt bike, with a couple of tween boys to lead the way. Gasoline supplies were almost gone, and what remained was rapidly gunking up engines across the land. Little detail of the apocalypse that Jake had never appreciated before: Gas has a terrible shelf life. Bikes wouldn’t last forever either, given the dearth of replacement parts, but for now it was better than walking. In a few years Jake imagined that they’d be straight back in the nineteenth century on these roads, with horses and mules and spoked wagons. Already they were using what few precious animals they had for patrols around the town.

On arrival, the kids scampered off to see their uncles or help in machine shop or do whatever kids here did. Jonah emerged from a converted pre-fab housing unit and greeted him with his traditional scowl. Jake chose to interpret that as non-committal acceptance, if not affection.

“So, Johnston Green’s finally seeing the light and dealing with the devil,” Jonah commented with a nod.

“Yeah, well, food rotting in the fields can be a hell of a motivator,” Jake replied. “I know you don’t want me poking into your operation for long, so how about we talk machinery and price, and I’ll get out of here. Jericho will make it worth your while for a good design, you know that.” If he kept this short and left within a couple of hours, he could make it home during the shortening daylight. Otherwise the roads could turn dicey, even in the protected zone. Most raids were at night.

“Jericho’s screwed me over before, so no, I don’t know that. Come in, Jake. Sit and stay awhile, and let’s talk. I don’t care if you take a look around. You always did have shitty recon skills.”

At that, Jake had to laugh. It was even true.

He did come in, and uneasily sat down. “Do you know why I brought you here, Jake?” Jonah asked.

 _Of course I do,_ Jake thought. “The same thing you always want, I imagine. Corn for your gang’s just an added bonus.”

Jonah leaned over him, supposedly casual but it had a looming effect nonetheless. Jake shifted away in his seat, uncomfortable with the closeness.

“Look, we don’t have to leave things hanging,” Jonah said. “We don’t have to keep playing this dumb-ass game where we both pretend nothing happened. You’re a grown man now, not a kid anymore.”

“Be a leader, is that what you’re trying to tell me? I get enough of that from Dad, but thanks for the tip.”

Jonah shrugged. “I’m in charge here, so I don’t give a rat’s ass who the good folks of Jericho choose to lead them into battle. I just want you to be honest with yourself. Why did you really come here? I throw up a pretty white flag and you come running? Not because Johnston asked you to, I know that much. Emily would spit in his face at the suggestion, what makes you different, kid?”

It was like some kind of game with him, and Jake suddenly couldn’t stand it. He jerked his body out of the chair to give himself more space. _Defensive posture,_ some military voice in his head commented. A mistake.

Jonah pressed in, effectively trapping him near the wall, unless Jake made an awkward run for it. Which he wouldn’t do, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to go back and report failure due to _Jonah Prowse standing too close to me._

“Come on, admit what you want. You look like a nervous cat about to dart out of here. Don’t run away, for once in your life. Face yourself.”

Like always, it seemed as if Jonah could read his mind. Jake relaxed and sagged back against the wall, as if on command, as Jonah leaned in. The kiss was familiar in its roughness, but also tender and skilled. Jonah reached a hand up to cup the back of his neck, and that too was familiar. They had hardly gotten this far when Chris had been killed, and Jake had indeed ran away. Fled from the humiliation and shame of failure, of letting down a friend in the worst possible way. But also he’d run from this, the terrifying feeling of vulnerability coupled with terrible desire, for someone he had no business lusting after, and who had no business lusting after him.

Jonah broke off as fast as he’d moved in, as Jake panted, wide-eyed, unable to move further. “Know what you want, when going in for negotiations,” he said. “Always know what you want, and men will follow you anywhere.”

Jake could only nod in stunned silence. _What am I here for?_ he thought. _Why did I really agree to come?_

Jonah looked amused at his befuddlement. “Come on, Jake. Let’s do the job you came here to do first, then we can negotiate.” He jerked his head towards the machine shop next door, and Jake slowly pulled his frozen body in the appropriate direction.

Ever the professional crook, Jonah did show off the promised gadgets first. They had a lot of prototypes, ranging from tractors running on witch’s brew diesel to what look like a mutant lawnmower with two guys pushing it from behind. The most efficient design, though, was a regular tractor attachment modified to be pulled by horses, and the grain threshed via mesh filters on an old school crank. All of the machines required much more human intervention than a modern combine, but were improvements over scythe and sickle and even the sharpened butcher knives attached to sticks that some folks in town were jerry-rigging to harvest their pitiful patches. Plenty of front lawns in Jericho and New Bern had been turned into grain, and even more would pop up next year, when proper seed was planned to be distributed. Jake knew a lot of it out there today wasn’t even wheat or barley, just lawn itself let go to seed, but they’d take anything for the belly in February.

“See anything you like?” Jonah asked. “I got two John Deere guys and three machinists cooking up these things. Jericho could get creative too, if you put a little effort into it.”

“Yeah, we should.” A whole town could afford to put a few people on it. Who knew what they could come it with? Or those New Bern guys who’d put all their time into manufacturing mortars and bullets, when they could be making the means for more food. Such a typical human thing to do, go to war instead of getting off their asses and farming themselves. Jake was honestly sick of it.

“We’ll take one each of the horse-drawn harvester, thresher, and, uh, the lawnmower thingy. Should be able to copy those designs without too much trouble,” Jake said, once the tour was over. “What, uh, did you have in mind in exchange?”

Jonah had invited him back to his room, and poured two cups of apparent cider-like substance and slid one down the negotiating table. Now the hard part, figuring out what price to pay. What he could ask for, what Jericho was actually willing to give, and what the Prowse Gang would take. Jake took a swig of the mug and almost gagged — it was harder than he expected, at least part distilled. Jonah cricked half a smile at that, the bastard.

“Ten percent of your harvest made with any descendants of the designs this year. Five percent the following two years,” Jonah said. “After that I figure there’ll be funky little harvesters on every corner, so we’ll have to come up with something new and useful.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s … wow, unusually reasonable of you, Jonah.” He’d expected a quoted figure of at least half their harvest as an opening bid. He doubted Jonah cared about starving children.

But it turned out, he might care a bit. “I don’t need mountains of corn and wheat, just enough for a buffer for my organization,” Jonah said, sipping his cider. “I don’t need two towns worth of starving men right next to me, either. Hungry folks get… unpredictable.”

“I thought you thrived on unpredictability. Steal from the poor, sell to the desperate, all of that.” He took a swig too, fortified against the burn this time. It was sweet and spiced and actually quite good, by eye-blinding moonshine standards.

“That’s a bit uncharitable of you. When the world falls apart, there’s plenty of opportunities besides being a bandit or street thug. But you’re right. I do have one additional requirement.” He put down his cup and poked a finger at Jake. “You.”

“Me?” Jake had to laugh for all of Jonah’s games. “Gimme a break, you’re not that desperate for workers. I bet you get guys coming over here all the time, begging to be let in on an efficient and well-fed operation.”

“I don’t want you as another pair of hands. You know you are much more than that to me. You and Emily, but I lost her, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. I think so. She really does hate your guts.”

“So now you’re the closest thing to family I got, Jake. A hundred followers, but no son. I ruined that the first time around.”

He got up then and crossed the eight feet of table between them. Too close again, and now Jake finally understood what he _really_ wanted when he said “you.” Jonah put a hand on his head, in much the same manner as before, lightly controlling. He never was the brute of his reputation.

“You’ve got a fucked up idea of family,” Jake murmured. “What are your men going to think of this?” He wasn’t afraid this time, but calm. Accepting. It was the one unique thing Jericho could offer up, after all.

Jonah just chuckled. “You see many women around here? They don’t care who gets fucked, so long as it’s not them. It’s a brand new baby world, and we get to remake it in our image. Stand up.”

Jake did. He couldn’t decide whether to hate himself for what he was about to do, or just choose to give in. Truth be told it was something he’d wanted, that they’d flirted with plenty of times before Chris’s death. He’d never said no to Jonah, not for this, and didn’t intend to start now.

 _Still not ready,_  he thought.  _Still not a leader, but I_ _’m fine following for now._

Jonah crooked a finger to bid him to the bedroom, and Jake followed him out the door.

  


  


  


  


  


  


 


End file.
